


Sidelined

by grayorca, YearwalktheWorld



Series: Skynet: 900 [17]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Wings, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Platonic Relationships, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2019-12-27 03:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18295691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayorca/pseuds/grayorca, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YearwalktheWorld/pseuds/YearwalktheWorld
Summary: Wings AU. Some battles are better left for later.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to _Beacon_.
> 
> #whocares

“Gavin. Knock it off. You death stare long enough, he isn’t going to just spontaneously keel over.”

Unfortunately, Tina was right. If she wasn't, Gavin was sure Vernon would be more than dead by now - but what else was he supposed to do, when no one would let him say or do anything to the android? 

“That's  _ our _ fuckin’ table,” Gavin hissed out instead, keeping his glare pinned onto Vernon. Even if Noah wasn't here, it didn't mean he got any free time from whatever punishment he could try and dole out. “Fucker knows it. The fuckin’ nerve of him, after everything.” 

Perched on the corner of his desk, Tina knew better than to waste her breath on a sigh. Instead she went for a sip of coffee. “You’re better off not taking it to the next level, trust me.”

“Nah, he's fuckin’ better off that I don't do shit,” Gavin grumbled, even if it wasn't true. Sure, the android would probably beat his ass to within an inch of his life, but it would feel better to at least get a good hit or two of his own in as well. Way better than just being able to glare at him and stew. “He's lucky I ain't doin’ anythin’.” 

“That makes all of us. Last thing we need CyberLife hearing about is how their latest, greatest invention mopped the floor with you.”

“They would probably be  _ happy,  _ to hear he's doin’ such a good fuckin’ job. Yeah, they like this guy, but they don't even acknowledge Noah?” Letting his arms come up in frustration, Gavin let out something close to a growl that swallowed up his words. How could he concentrate, when all his thoughts were being swallowed up and spit back out so angry? 

Glancing sidelong over her shoulder, Tina’s frown was barely hidden behind the edge of her coffee cup. “They probably figured the biocomponents overhaul was favor enough for Noah and Connor. How well they do or didn’t get along after the fact - don’t go giving their PR office an excuse to decommission them.”

Damn, she had a point, and a good one at that. What was a little incompatible friction compared to missing out on the benefits? Much as they were each pains in their own right, the 7th’s case closure rate had skyrocketed since the addition of Connor and Noah.

But if ever their creators thought it was doing more harm than good, there was CyberLife - finger on the button.

“I'm not goin’ to. I'm just - fuck, I don't know. I'm fuckin’ pissed off, and I can't do shit about it.” Turning it back toward him, Gavin at least tried to clumsily change any dark thoughts about a decommissioned Noah in his brain to something he actually could think about. “He's just sittin’ there, and he gets to do that. Not a fuckin’ care in the world.” 

“And? What are we, in middle school? I would like to think you can figure out when a grudge isn’t worth holding, Gav.”

“Me, not holdin’ a grudge because I know it will lead me nowhere? You have the wrong person.” Which was true, in that department, even if it wasn't a good thing. No way Gavin was letting go of this shit, not now. “Fuck that. I'll hold it for fuckin’ ever.”

And this was a dramatic and childish thing to say, yes. But then it was right up his alley, right? Tina Chen had been a party to his dramatics for years. She ought to know by now.

“Pft. Someone’s smitten. Y’think Noah will agree with you on this?”

“I ain't smitten, just fuckin’ pissed off that anyone thinks they have the - the right to talk to someone else like that.” In clarifying himself, Gavin tried to think of an appropriate answer to her question that was better than ‘I don't give a shit’. “Dude can carry his own grudges just fine. If he doesn't hold this one on Vernon, who fuckin’ cares. I will.” 

“I might just recommend he do that, if it means keeping you from making any stupid decision of legendary proportions. Are you forgetting the fact you heard this all secondhand? It might not even be so bad between them, going forward.”

“You really think that? Dude called him fuckin’ worthless. Someone like that, they tell you that shit? They aren't gonna care for you, not anytime soon.” Yes, maybe Gavin was projecting a bit, but who cared? Noah didn't fucking deserve shit like that to be said to him, especially with his life. “The fact Noah hasn't told me himself lets me know just how bad it was.” 

“Then maybe you should talk to him when he gets back, as opposed to take blind stabs at defending his honor. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah, lay off. Maybe I will.” Giving a noncommittal shrug, Gavin almost grimaced at the thought. How would Noah even feel about that, having some awkward talk about how much he wanted to beat the shit out of Vernon? Not good, most likely. “Lemme glare some more.” 

Glare, and alternatively plot some low key revenge in the process.

No one was saying he couldn’t.

——-

_ “Christ, Gav. Why don’t you piss on the thing, mark your territory? That way, there’s no mistake if Vernon comes sniffing around again.” _

Coffee finished, Tina left him with sage words (something said she might not necessarily mean just the table) to attend to her given patrol. Lacking anyone to banter with, he tried alternating between phone and computer terminal. The former didn’t offer much in the way of useful distraction. But it serves its purpose in making him look busy.

Noah wasn’t fooled for a nanosecond.

“Have you even filled out the search warrant application for O’Rourke’s yet?”

“...No. So what?” Yeah, there was an edge to his voice that he didn't wanna be there, but it was. Noah was smart - he would know it wasn't anything directed toward him. “I'm just slackin’.” 

Because he was a professional like that. Feet up on the desk, earpiece in, paying only the vaguest attention to the dispatch readout board looming over the bullpen - business as usual.

Leaning over into his field of view, Noah’s disapproving frown was just as textbook. The hands weren’t folded behind his back, but they were perhaps moments away from going there. “Then, if that has taken priority, may I recommend that you do? Red ice deals wait for no man.”

Nor did their setup. How positively poetic of a reminder.

“Eh. I ain't exactly feelin’ like it.” Now there was the dilemma - should he actually try and bring the incident up with Noah, or wait and see if he would? Which one would make him more pissed off at Gavin? “What?” 

“‘What’?” Unintentionally or not, Noah parroted the word perfectly. His blue eyes seemed to flash and crackle. “It’s a viable lead we should be following up on.”

“That ain't what I'm talkin’ about.” Folding his arms, Gavin tried for his best version of a patient, understanding expression, instead of angry or upset, or any other fucking bad combination. “C'mon, N. I hate dancin’ around anything, so if we're gonna talk about it, tell me. If we ain't, tell me that, then.” 

And just as much as he hated leaving things hanging, Noah seemed to quietly resent the invitation to talk. The immediate way he jumped to pick the former option said as much.

“We aren’t talking about it. …Not  _ here _ , at any rate.”

“Fine.” Gavin thought to leave it at that much, and quietly stew for the rest of the day, before Noah inevitably showed up and either broke in, or was grudgingly let into his apartment. “I'm sure Colby will just  _ love  _ to hear this mess.” 

“I’ll compose the application.” Pivoting on his heel to trek over to the cubicle next to Reed’s desk, the android avoided meeting his eye. His LED brightened to yellow to better match his pensive look. “You do whatever it is you do here, Detective.”

“Oh, I do plenty, asshole. Like right now… I'm gonna doze off.” 

Disappearing behind the divider, he heard the rolling feet of a chair pull back, followed by the cream of weight settling into the seat. Rapid-typing fingers began clattering against the terminal’s keyboard.

His phone screen chimed with a new text message:

_ Let me know when you’re ready to resume working. _

How could he just go back to fucking work, when they both so clearly ignoring something that had literally happened what - hours ago? It was hard enough to agree to not do anything about it right now. 

Fuck, he was being dramatic again, when Noah was right - there was work he should be doing,  _ important  _ work, right in front of him. 

Reading his sullen pause as if he had said the words out loud, another text beeped through:

_ Right about now, then? _

“Fine,  _ fine! _ ” Pulling himself back up to the edge of his desk, Gavin logged into the terminal before staring at it blankly for a moment. “I'll do some work, asshole.” 

Beep.

_ Thank you, Detective. _

Ass.

He was lucky this particular human was feeling sorry for him.


	2. Chapter 2

As he could always be counted on for a vote of confidence when it was most needed, Colby - balanced in the windowsill - gave a wide, eyes-shut yawn in response to hearing a knock at the door. His dangling tail flicked. That in itself was a “good luck” of sorts.

Well… at least he actually fucking showed up, and didn't just continue to blatantly ignore the incident with him. Giving Colby one last look, Gavin forced himself back off of the couch and made his way to the door.

Because who else would be knocking on it? Certainly nobody else but Noah. There was no need to ask just who it was, when it came to today.

Swinging it open, Gavin immediately gestured for the android loitering outside to come in, with only a raised eyebrow to go along. “Yeah, yeah, get in. Can't you break in anyways?”

Candidly avoiding answering the obviously-rhetorical question, Noah only threaded his way by. He stooped down just far enough to avoid banging folded wings against the doorframe. “The fire escape looked more preferable, I admit.”

Colby paid the scene only another disinterested tail flick before starting to lap and chew at the claws of one paw.

“Well, guess I should say thanks for fuckin’ using the front door at least.” Gavin took his appearance in, before grimacing to himself. What was the right way to go about this conversation? Should he just straight up ask him? “So, dude… fuck, I dunno what to say. We gonna talk, or what?”

“What do you want to know, specifically?” Oh, and there it was, the borderline deadpan tone and low-brows expression that only surfaced when a sulky episode was imminent. “Suffice to say, everything you’ve heard was secondhand, unless it came from Vernon or Emilia.”

“Fine, then how about _you_ tell me?” Gavin asked instead - evidently it was going to be fucking hard to get Noah to talk about any of this shit, even if he had come over here willingly in the first place. Trailing his way back to flop down on the couch, Gavin sat down. “If you're so worried about secondhand sources.”

“Do I strike you as worried?” Noah shot back, neatly avoiding the former question for a few breaths. Standing idle, a deliberate jab against any unspoken invitation to sit, the android was able to glare down at him from an even greater distance than usual.

“I don't fuckin’ know what you strike me as right now, dude. Listen, you're the one who came here, I didn't force you or some shit. So if we're going to talk, let's _talk.”_ How many more ways did Gavin have to put it? The android was free to walk right back out of the door if he wanted to, no matter how disappointing and low that would feel. Or he was free to sit down and actually talk with him.

His choice. No badgering or arm-twisting required.

Appearing to mentally wrestle with the notion, Noah eventually managed a flustered scoff, feathers bristling. Sharply, he folded his arms and glanced away.

“What - did you hear about it?”

“Oh, I dunno, just how Vernon fuckin’ called you some shit, bastard that he is.” Which, wasn't helpful for the situation. The best thing Gavin could probably do for Noah right now was remain calm, and not go on any rants or tangents. By his body language, Bird Boy wasn’t in the mood for any trivializing. “I mean, I heard the basics, dude. He said some fucked up shit to you, for no reason. Shouldn't have done that.”

“...And?”

What, like he needed to elaborate? How much more information did this two-legged supercomputer require?

“And… what? I heard you were upset and he didn't give a damn?” Frowning at him, Gavin tried to think on anything else he had heard. “I dunno, dude.”

One creepy, statue-still staredown later, Noah scoffed again. Without ceremony he strode across the sparse living room. Colby gave an annoyed yowl at being brushed off the windowsill, landing on his feet to bound away. Evidently he had been sitting in front of the latch.

“I’d sooner discuss it outside, Detective. Your walls are too thin.”

“Oh, my… fine, fine. You're lucky I ain't afraid of heights.” Getting up off the couch with a sigh, Gavin gestured toward the window. Why should they be comfortable? Nah. If this was how Noah was going to talk, so be it, apparently. “After you, then.”

Thankfully it wasn’t an issue of being able to fit. The windows were wide enough to accommodate broad shoulders plus a tucked set of wings. Perhaps it wasn’t so different from the landing ledges framing the circumference of the 7th’s roof. Unless one was a natural klutz like Nick, who held the distinction of flattening at least one desk and dropping a few tablets, disaster was easily avoidable.

And yes, Noah had a point. Thin apartment walls, originally built in the 1970s and scantly reinforced since, were no place to hold a candid conversation between.

Were androids held to some bullshit NDAs or the like?

Waiting for him to sidestep over the windowsill, Noah didn’t give him but a millisecond before sliding the glass shut with a final-sounding _clunk_.

“Define ‘basics’.”

“Urgh… okay, I mean that I don't know exactly what the fuck was said, N. I know Vernon said somethin’ to you, said you were fuckin’ not worth it, that sort of shit, that he didn't care you were upset.” Trying for some type of casual, Gavin shrugged. It was obvious Noah wasn't in any sort of mood for his sarcasm or the likes. “Just fucked up shit. I dunno what else to say.”

“You have no comments to that effect?” Almost seething, the android refolded his arms. “Besides how ‘fucked up’ it is?”

Well, he came to the wrong guy if he wanted eloquence.

“What sorta comments do you want? Yeah, it was fucked up, and he shouldn't have said that. I mean, how much more can be fuckin’ said past, he's wrong and an asshole?”

“Something to indicate you’ll get over it for the sake of professionalism would be nice,” Noah admitted, with a frown that in a more ideal world could have been reinterpreted as an upside-down smile. “It bothered me in the moment, but it’s past tense. And only getting more so with every passing hour.”

“...You serious? You want to just - forget about this, let him fuckin’, like, get away with this shit?” Gavin couldn't help but frame it the way he saw it. They were just going to let this incident go, let Vernon go without any sort of consequence? This was not how he forsaw the conversation going. “Ugh… fuck, dude. If that's… really what you want. Fine.”

Rather than relax, Noah’s eyes only narrowed. “If you were expecting me to want to exact some kind of petty revenge, for the record, you’re mistaken.”

“I wasn't expecting _you_ to, but I was expectin’ you to not mind if _I_ did.” Crossing his arms, Gavin averted his own gaze to glare at the grating beneath their feet. No, it wasn't Noah's style to do any revenge himself, but turning a blind eye to him? Maybe. “Fine, _fine_. We can fuckin’ let it go, if that's what you want.”

It was such an unfulfilling alternative, though. It deserved to be addressed beyond what it indicated. The RK900 had always been on a different frequency than his fellow RKs, but here was confirmation it wasn’t just out of some parameter. At least one of them resented, if not was indifferent to, his presence.

Boxing up your emotions to shove under a shelf somewhere didn’t fix them any.

“I’d rather you left the matter alone, Detective, until further notice.”

Yeah, and how long was that gonna be, rough estimate? Android power cells were supposed to last one-hundred fifty plus years. Minimum. Knowing this one, Reed might just go to his grave waiting for an okay to retaliate.

“Fine, fine, didn't I say I would? …Damn, what the fuck is even up with that one anyways? That android fuckin’ rubs me the wrong way, man.” If he wasn't gonna get the go ahead to try and retaliate, he would at least take the moment to do a bit of ranting. “You know, at first, I thought it was sorta fuckin’ funny, some version of Nick in combat gear, but now - he's crazy, dude. He ain't - he doesn't see the world as anythin’ but either his shitty threats or not. How is he even considered like… a fuckin’ android detective?”

Given that much to mull over, Noah appeared to ease up. His semi-clenched hands went slack against his sleeves. Thinking on an answer to that always aspired to his sense of logic.

“A detective is only his… officially assigned role. Unless he were to interact with the general public, who would know the difference?”

No one. Truth be told, Reed couldn’t remember ever seeing said android speak, to _anyone_ , besides Emilia.

“That can't be what's he's actually made for, though. Dude doesn't have any fuckin’ sensitive wire in his body, not like you or anyone else.” Honestly, Vernon reminded Gavin more of some sort of single-minded soldier type - which was definitely not what a police detective was. “It's just weird.”

“Weirder than CyCorp working in league with CyberLife to build android assembly plants?” Calling up the short version of what the corruption investigation had exposed, Noah shook his head. “Competitors who turn out to be ‘cousins’ seems to be a running theme with my series.”

“Heh… I guess once you take into consideration the fact that Sindino actually fuckin’ owned Vernon…” Trailing off, Gavin shrugged. There was a lot of shit to dig into when it came to Sindino and CyCorp, too much if one was being realistic. “Well. Maybe it ain't so weird. Just seems weird now, since he's all… on his own.”

“With Emilia for a handler. You know she is essentially a misplaced mind palace algorithm?”

“Pfft. The fuck?” Even if he didn't understand it entirely, that definitely didn't sound like anything good. “The hell does that even mean, dude?”

Noah’s expression fell, before reassuming an unimpressed slant, one eye narrowed in skepticism. “It means she was not supposed to be applied to a chassis. We all start out as artificial intelligence made to fit a specific mold. Sindino was somehow able to con CyberLife into releasing her as a so-called secretary model, remember?”

Sure, as if he could forget. How weird was it to clock in one day and see one of the brunettes behind the front desk was not like the others? The accent gave it away in a millisecond.

“Holy fuck. Well… I guess that sorta makes sense now, why Vern could be so protective.” Because knowing what one was supposed to be, like that, someone you care about, it would definitely make anyone feel scared and protective over them. “Shit, man. All you fuckin’ RK900s got somethin’ extra, don't you?”

At that Noah only gave a low scoff, so quiet it might have been a sigh. “If you say so, Detective.”

Damn, he really was a pessimist. That was meant as a compliment. Vernon and Emilia were prototypes unto themselves, never mind their imperfect tern-winged forerunner. Where once he might have thought he was top of their line, time had shown it was just the opposite.

“I would… rather have had an AI handler than this arrangement, besides. At least then I could have counted on them for an impartial point of view.”

“Oh, really, huh? Rather have that, than Emilia?” No way he was serious, at least not about that part of it. Gavin raised an eyebrow at him with a quiet scoff - how could he think that would be better? “You know, somethin’ tells me that would really fuckin’ piss Dennis off, if you're serious. Don't tell him.”

“It didn’t cross my mind. There’s no changing what we have now,” Noah retorted, unswayed. “But you can see how useful having someone to confer with privately might benefit my moods.”

Yeah, there was a bit of logic there. He wouldn’t change Emilia as she was now. But only a robot would fancy the idea of having a guiding force in its head to talk to.

Humans, on the other hand, tended to think of hearing fabricated voices as a sign of mental illness.

“What? Flesh-and-blood isn’t good enough for you?”

Out of nowhere as the remark was, Noah blinked and the frown disappeared. “I’m sorry?”

“Fuckin’ ouch, dude. Didn't think I spread our gossip too far.” Teasing as it was, Gavin couldn't help but feel the slightest bit like some chopped liver. Sure, he wasn't some company-issue guiding force, able to provide any answer for Noah, but he didn't think he was that bad of a friend. Or, at least he could listen, and not spread it. That was one of the basic tenants.

Processing the implicated message, Noah scowled. “It’s not - the same thing. Not to invalidate your - importance, I only meant I would be that much more useful to you if I weren’t - so preoccupied.”

“I ain't fuckin’ worried about you bein’ more useful, N. Fuck, I don't think really anyone is, but you.” Who else was relentlessly hounding him to be better? Or, at least - anyone who's opinion really mattered, besides Noah himself? Even Tina had taken something of a backseat to their working dynamic, which she had embraced if only as a means to not be Reed’s one-and-only sounding board. “But hey, do you? I don't think you need a voice in your head to tell you what shit to do, though.”

Hopefully that came across like a vote of confidence. It was just the sort of statement to pick anyone up with when they felt subpar. And law enforcement was full of that mentality - like all the work put in was hardly making a dent. It was enough to discourage most into finding a different line of work.

Built as he was, Noah didn’t have that option. At least not initially. Little by little, he had to be brought around to more open ways of thinking.

That included not putting yourself down just because your ‘betters’ didn’t think you weren’t pulling your weight.

Puzzling over that much longer than the crack about being accused a gossipmonger, the faulty RK900 spared a very obvious look down at himself. Not a false hair or thread out of place, as always, and he thought himself inadequate. He didn’t know the half of it.

“I don’t want any deficiencies to become a detriment to you, Detective Reed. If they do, the department might just consider… replacing me.”

“Uh, fuck that. Yeah, that ain't happenin’.” Gavin's immediate visceral reaction was to deny letting anything like that ever happen, so he took it. “You ain't gonna become - a fuckin’ detriment to me, Noah. We still do damn good work on our cases.”

Usually, at least. And since being teamed up with Noah, they've definitely solved more cases than any Reed would have on his own, right? That had to be a good thing, any way anyone looked at it. If it was less than Noah could supposedly do, it was most likely because of the whole fucking human factor. Working solo, he could probably solve them thrice as fast rather than dragging his grumbling partner along to every scene.

“What if they don’t see it that way?”

Gavin squinted. “Who? CyberLife, the department? Who the hell're you talkin’ about?” Who wouldn't be apt to see it that way, and why the hell did their opinion matter? With Javier on their side, albeit uneasily, didn't they have the upper hand in anything like that?

Nervous eye darting aside, Noah seemed to catch exactly what he had let slip, and recanted on it in the next breath. “No one, I misspoke. I only - I’m still a bit rattled by what happened, that’s all.”

And just as poor a liar as ever. A lie by omission was still a lie. All that could be said for sure, given that statement, was that Noah was still under some kind of microscope, like an experiment turned loose to see what the world made of it. No wonder he had such issues with deviating, if he didn’t know what mission parameters he was violating.

Micromanagement at its worst, in other words. At least Javier Sindino had the courtesy to show his face when he planned to play with your puppet strings - _hello, yes, I’ll be your megalomaniacal manipulator this evening._

CyberLife was just that - CyberLife. It was like a force of nature, something you could no more rail against than a massive wildfire or a raging ocean and expect it to abate.

Who did Noah even report to? If it wasn’t a handling artificial intelligence, where did his orders come from? Someone had to think them up in the first place.

“Yeah? …Hmph. Guess I'll let that go. But just so you fuckin’ know, Noah - I ain't gonna let shit like that happen, you failin’ or anything. How old are you, four months? You're literally a baby. They ought to be cutting you slack, if anything.” Sure, this all sounded very weird and awkward right now, but Gavin had to say it to get to his point. And it wasn't like it wasn't true, right? Age was a factor. “Which means I'm your fuckin’ babysitter, gotta look after you and your messes. You're lucky I'm the best around.”

On any other day, Noah might have gone cross at such a comparison. He would huff and scowl and insist he wasn’t that fragile. There was no need to handle him with kid gloves. He could hold his own with any current police android, and then some. How dare anyone draw the parallels.

But if that anyone was Gavin Reed, they got a free pass in the form of a ‘weary’ eyeroll and half smile. “The best? And where did you acquire this babysitting knowledge, in between running away from foster homes and ditching school on a regular basis?”

“Oh, you asshole. I'll have you know that's _exactly_ where I got it.” Yeah, all those opportunities for babysitting that he got, with foster siblings. Noah wasn't wrong - the only way anyone would trust Gavin with their children was when they learned what his job was. And even then, the case with Kee had proven he still wasn't very good at it. He was fortunate Noah was probably the most well-behaved four-month-old in existence, even if he was taking a liking to snark. “Whatever. You're lucky it's me and not anyone else. Emilia may be okay, but forget that douche Vern. He says you’re not worth his time? He ain’t worth yours, either.”

Glitchy or not, breakdown prone or not, Noah was more of a fit for the department than the other RK900 could yet hope to be. If he needed the occasional reminder to keep it in mind, Reed could do that much.

A more sensitive, sentimental man might have offered a hug. Gavin compromised with a fistbump offer, which was reluctantly returned.

“See? You got this much right, you’re set.”

Anticipating as much, Noah subtlety beat him to it with a proverbial half step in the reverse. Good call. He knew when a conversation might be turning too sappy to stomach.

“Hm. I’m glad I measure up to your definition of effective, then.”

Because the two were so mutually exclusive? What might not be good enough for CyberLife was more than enough as is.

_Good enough for me. That’s all that matters._


End file.
